Valentine's Day
by racefh853629
Summary: It's the world's most romantic day, but to Greg, it's the worst day he could imagine.


A/N: This was a challenge from LLK (though I don't know if she remembers giving it to me, because that was almost a month ago). I don't own anyone or anything. It's kinda sad (because that's my forte). I hope you enjoy anyway, and please review. :)

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Valentine's Day

He sank deeper into the softness of the pillows, reminding himself that he couldn't get out of bed today. If he did, no good could come from it. Fortunately for him, his boss, Nick, already knew all about that, and Greg had already been given the day off.

But staying in bed wasn't going to be good for him either.

It didn't matter, though, as Greg remained in bed. He rolled over onto his side, facing the TV on the wall. He turned it on, hoping for it to drown out the sick, pervasive thoughts in his head. Given the day, though, all that was on TV were happy couples and mushy romance movies. He turned it off, rolling over in bed and pulling his knees into his chest.

He closed his eyes, trying to will his body into a sleep he definitely needed. It would make him feel better to drift off into a deep sleep where he didn't have to worry about anything. He wouldn't have to think about today, what it meant for him.

He didn't want to think about how the world's most romantic day had become his most painful.

Just the acknowledgment of that idea made him curl tighter into a ball in his bed, frowning and trying to make himself invisible beneath the sheets. He wanted to disappear, skip the day, have it all go away and be better tomorrow.

But he couldn't.

His phone rang, dragging him out of his thoughts and out from underneath the covers. He grabbed up the phone, looking at the caller ID. Catherine. He put the phone back on the nightstand, reconciling that he didn't want to talk to her today. He hadn't heard from her since she left CSI last year, so why would he bother to answer her call on a day when he was already miserable?

His phone chimed to let him know he had a message, and he closed his eyes again. He tried again to make himself go to sleep, but again, sleep wouldn't come. He kept his eyes closed, though, because he could make himself believe that this wasn't Valentine's day. That things were okay. He was fine, she was fine, everything was fine.

Her.

As soon as the thought of her crossed his brain, immediately he regretted it, as the only images to follow in his head were the ones of the last time he saw her- mangled and covered in blood.

In their bed.

Not the one he was sleeping in right now. He had moved after that, bought new furniture, because almost everything in the old house reminded him of her. Even the memory of her was painful now. Thinking of the good times reminded him that there would be any more good times with her, because she was dead, and she wasn't coming back.

He sniffled back the tears as his thoughts continued to focus on her. He couldn't think about Valentine's day without thinking about her death. Because the sadistic asshole who took her from him had done so on the world's most romantic day, and that was something he would never forget.

He closed his eyes tighter, trying to squeeze the images of her body laying bruised and bloodied on their bed out of his mind. He sprang up in bed when the images wouldn't leave him alone, his heart racing, tears streaming down his face as he gasped for breath. His body shuddered with every sob he let out, unable to control himself any more.

He cried for his loss. He cried for her pain. But, most importantly, he cried for the life she left behind.

After what felt like an eternity of sobbing and shaking, Greg regained control of his emotions, wiping away the few remaining tears. He laid back down in bed, curling up under the covers once again, as his emotional outburst had taken its toll on him.

_Long time coming,_ he thought to himself.

He hadn't allowed himself to lose it like that in the year that she had been dead. He simply kept everything bottled within him. He had to. He needed to be strong. He needed to not lose his mind. He needed to have everything together.

Lives depended on it.

As he remained in bed, he kept his mind on other thoughts, staring out the window on what had proven to be a beautiful day. _Of course it would be beautiful_, he thought. _She always was. It's only fitting._

The front door opened, and he heard someone drop something by the door. Moments later, little feet scampered into his bedroom, and he closed his eyes, pretending to be asleep. The little figure jumped up on his bed, jumping up and down until he caught her in his arms.

She was his new reason for living. The only bright spot in his day. And as his daughter wrapped her little arms around his neck, he kissed her on the top of the head and thanked God that she was safe and in his arms.

She was all he had left, and the only thing that could make him happy anymore. And as she babbled on about her day at school and how hard the first grade was, he smiled, kissing her forehead and telling her that things would only get better.

He just had to believe it too.

The End.


End file.
